


Shattered

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Politician's Husband
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coma, Hospitals, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Serious Injuries, Shooting, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: The first chapter of angst featuring Aiden! How long should I make this one?
Relationships: Roland Blum/Aiden Hoynes
Comments: 38
Kudos: 43
Collections: Roland Blum/Aiden Hoynes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of angst featuring Aiden! How long should I make this one?

Aiden wasn't home yet when Roland came home from work. That wasn't unusual, but he would always text Roland or call him to let him know that he would be late. Of course, Roland had been incredibly busy all day, trying to handle a very delicate case assigned to him. He hadn't a chance to check his phone all day. He took it out of his pocket and let himself into the house with his key. There were no new or missed messages or calls. 

'He's probably busy as well,' Roland thought. 'He'll probably text me once he's finished.'

With that as comfort, Roland poured himself a glass of bourbon and turned on the TV. He flipped absently through the channels, trying to find something to at least fill the silence of the house. He passed by the local news station, only to quickly switch back to it. The flashing headline made his blood turn cold, the glass of bourbon slipping from his hand and shattering to the floor. 'Shots fired at local political meeting spot. Dozens shot and wounded.' The footage showed ambulances and police cars parked along the street, lights flashing, crowds of people clamoring behind yellow hazard tape and wooden blockades. Paramedics placed people on gurneys, loading them up into the waiting ambulances. The camera panned and zoomed in on one man in particularly bad shape, blood oozing from his arm and torso, his suit torn and bloody. The paramedics lifted him onto a gurney, and Roland saw the man's face more clearly. It was Aiden!

Roland's ears were ringing. His vision blurred, and his heart raced. His hands shook as he staggered backward away from the TV and into the wall. He was breathing heavily, tears welling up in his eyes. His hearing was growing faint, and he almost didn't hear his phone ring in his pocket. He grabbed it and checked the collar ID. He didn't recognize the number, but he answered anyway.

"Hello?" Roland asked, his voice sounding weak and shaky. His hand was still shaking.

"Is this Roland Blum?" a man's voice asked.

"Yes," Roland answered, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"My name is Dr. Simon Chase," the man explained in a calm and gentle voice. "I'm afraid your husband, Aiden Hoynes, was injured in a shooting earlier this evening. He's here at Westminster Hospital."

"Is he alright?" Roland asked.

Dr. Chase was silent for a long minute. "You should get here as fast as you can," he answered finally.

"Okay. I'm on my way." Roland's voice cracked as he hung up. He slipped his phone into his pocket and took a deep breath, trying to get his heartbeat under control. 

"Don't jump to conclusions yet, Blum," he told himself. "Get your shit together. Aiden needs you."

Heartbeat slowing down, he grabbed his car keys and shot out the door. He climbed into his car and drove like a madman straight to Westminster, trying to stay on the speed limit. Anxiety controlled his foot as it flattened the gas pedal. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He looked out the window and saw a helicopter flying across the evening sky. It had a searchlight on like it was looking for something. Roland clubfooted the accelerator.

..........................  
As expected, Westminster Hospital was a madhouse. Clusters of news vans, police cars, and ambulances lined the street. Cops stood behind traffic signs, directing cars in different directions, letting some into the hospital parking lot and sending others down the block. Roland merged with the traffic and rolled down his window, prepared to sneak past the officers if he had to. He drove up and the cop waiting there raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you here for someone or just passing through?" he asked.

"My husband was brought here," Roland replied, gripping the steering wheel.

"Who's your husband?" the officer asked.

"Aiden Hoynes," Roland answered.

The officer checked the clipboard he was holding, brows furrowed. 

"Alright," he said at last. "Head on through."

Roland sighed and drove into the hospital parking lot. He was able to find a space close to the entrance. He parked and took a few deep breaths before exiting the car and entering the hospital. He cringed at the medicinal smell. It brought back memories from his time in the hospital in Chicago. That had been the last time he'd been in a hospital, and he'd been hoping to keep it that way. Bit now here he was again, only the roles were reversed. Roland gritted his teeth, forcing away the negative thoughts and trying to focus. He caught hold of a frenzied-looking nurse walking by with a clipboard in hand.

"Excuse me," he said, "I'm trying to find my husband Aiden Hoynes. He was...injured in the shooting earlier today."

The nurse's face immediately softened. She led Roland over to the waiting area and sat him down. Roland's heart sped up again, palms growing clammy.

"Your husband was the first one brought in from the shooting," she explained slowly. "He's still in surgery. Dr. Chase is due to scrub out in a bit. He'll tell you what you need to know."

"Alright," Roland said.

She smiled at him, but there was something kind of forced about it. Her eyes were kind but sad. She stood up and walked away. Roland ran a shaking hand through his curls, biting at his lip to stem the tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. He lowered his head and twisted the rings on his left ring finger, the stones on them flashing in the fluorescent lights. After what felt like a lifetime, footsteps approached Roland from the side. He looked up and saw a man with short brown hair and dark eyes walking toward him, dressed in blue scrubs, a mask hanging from his neck. Roland stood up as he approached.

"Are you Dr. Chase?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," the man replied, his accent almost the same as Aiden's. "You're Roland Blum?"

"Yes," Roland replied impatiently. "Where's Aiden? How is he? Can I see him?"

Dr. Chase sighed. "Aiden was shot in his right arm and his stomach," he explained. "He'd lost a lot of blood by the time he was brought here. The bullet in his stomach did a lot of damage, but didn't harm any major arteries or organs. The bullet in his arm did damage some bone, but we were able to repair that."

"Okay," Roland said, feeling a little more at ease. But something didn't feel right. It was like the doctor was hiding something. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"When Aiden was shot, he must have hit his head when he fell from the force of the bullet," Dr. Chase explained. "He was unconscious when he was admitted, which I thought was due to blood loss, until we realized he was bleeding in his brain. We were able to fix that, but..." He trailed off.

Roland felt sick to his stomach. "But what?"

"We had to put him a coma to help the swelling in his brain," Dr. Chase answered. "He'll have to stay like that until the swelling goes down."

"When will that be?" Roland asked, his voice tight.

"I don't know," Dr. Chase admitted. "It could take days, weeks, even months."

Roland felt lightheaded. He slowly sat back down, not believing what he was hearing. Dr. Chase sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"A medically induced coma isn't as serious as a com from a brain injury," he told Roland. "Once the swelling goes down, he'll be able to wake up."

Roland appreciated his optimism. "Thank you, Dr. Chase," he said. 

"Would you like to see him?" Dr. Chase asked.

"Yes," Roland answered.

They stood up and Roland followed the doctor into the ICU section of the hospital. Several of the rooms were occupied, probably by other victims of the shooting. Dr. Chase stopped outside room 316. He pulled open the door and let Roland step inside first. The American braced himself and walked into the room. The lights were dim, the curtains on the window drawn. There was a table and a few chairs near the window, and another door that led to what Roland figured was a bathroom. The bed was in the middle of the room, against the far wall. Aiden lay on it, his torso wrapped in bandages, his right arm also bound in gauze. He was hooked up to a ventilator, and another tube snaked up into one of his nostrils. The hissing of the ventilator was ominous. Roland walked over to his husband on shaky legs and grasped his left hand gently. More gauze had been bound around Aiden's head like a bandana, hiding his thick blond hair from view.

"Can you hear me, Pretty Boy?" Roland asked, quietly, tears running down his cheeks. "If you can, I need you to know that I'm here."

Dr. Chase lingered in the doorway for a minute before walking away. Roland pulled up a chair and sat down, grasping Aiden's hand. It was warm but limp. Their rings clacked against each other. 

"I'm here, Aiden," he whispered. "I love you. So much." He pressed his forehead to the back of his husband's hand. "I love you, Pretty Boy. Please wake up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before my boyfriend was taken into surgery, he was adamant that this story would be updated. He gave me permission to do so while he's out of commission for a while.  
>  -Elliot, boyfriend of RedShirtWriter34567/assassin-or-templar-56

Roland wasn't leaving the hospital. He knew that much already. He wasn't leaving until Aiden was awake and healthy. Sitting beside Aiden's comatose form, holding his hand, Roland took out his phone and began making call after call, leaving messages to his boss at the law firm he worked at in Westminster, the client who's case he'd been working on, and the other lawyer that he'd been working with on the case, letting him know that he'd be soloing the case for the time being.

"Don't worry, Aiden," Roland said, tucking his phone away again. "I'm not leaving you. My face is going to be the first thing you see when you wake up."

He ran his thumb along his husband's knuckles, tracing the shape of the rings there. He'd heard that comatose people didn't dream but often had vivid hallucinations. Aiden didn't seem to be in any kind of distress. He probably didn't even know what the hell was going on. 

"I hope you can hear me, Pretty Boy," Roland whispered. 

Suddenly, his phone rang loudly in his pocket. He hastily grabbed it and turned the sound off, checking the collar ID. It was Maia, requesting a video chat. He hesitated for a second. What time was it in Chicago? What time was it here, more specifically? Roland checked the clock on the wall. It was 10:45 at night now, meaning it was 4:45 in the afternoon in Chicago. He answered quickly, holding the phone a little way's away from Aiden's bed. Maia's face appeared, looking frenzied and worried. The background behind her made Roland think she was in her home rather than at work.

"Roland?" she asked. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Roland confirmed. 

"I heard about the shooting," she explained. "It's all over the news. I remember you told me that Aiden and the other politicians would gather at that place. Please tell me he wasn't there today."

Roland sighed in answer and turned the phone toward Aiden. He heard Maia let out a gasp and another sound, like a choked sob. Roland turned the phone back to himself. Maia had tears in her eyes, smearing her make-up. 

"What happened?" she asked through her tears. "Why is he hooked up to all that stuff?"

"He was shot in his stomach and his right arm," Roland explained, trying to keep his own tears at bay. "The bullets did a lot of damage, but nothing major. But the doctor said that he must have hit his head at one point because he was bleeding in his brain. They were able to fix that, but they had to put him in a coma to help the swelling in his brain."

"Oh, my God," Maia cried. "When will he wake up?"

"Depends on when the swelling goes down," Roland replied heavily. "It could be days, weeks, months."

"God, Roland, I'm so sorry," Maia said, wiping at her streaky make-up with a tissue. 

"So am I," Roland said wearily. He sighed and kneaded his aching temples. His eyes felt crusty and dry from his own crying. 

"You'll get through this, Roland," Maia told him kindly. 

"I appreciate that, Maia," Roland replied, with a small smile. "I have to go. I have some things I need to take care of."

"Of course," Maia said. "Keep me posted."

They signed off and Roland sighed, running a hand through his hair. He needed some air, but didn't want to stray too far from Aiden. He stood up from his chair and paced the length of the room restlessly before he stepped out of the room and into the hallway of the ICU. There were still some doctors and nurses lingering around. Roland could see that many of the rooms were occupied, or had people waiting outside them. Most of them were families with kids, some no younger than four, others that looked to be on the edge of puberty. Roland's heart went out to them. They didn't deserve to be put through this kind of trauma. Nobody did. 

'I hope they find the bastard who did this and shoot him,' Roland thought angrily. 'No son of a bitch like that deserves a trial.'

"You better not be here for the reason I think you are," a woman's voice said, sounding concerned.

Roland turned his head and saw Freya Gardner walking into the ICU, flanked by two men in dark suits. Bodyguards, most likely. She wore a grey business suit and flat shoes, but her make-up and hair looked rushed, as if she'd gotten ready in a hurry. She walked up to Roland, and he instinctively tensed. 

"Roland?" Freya asked. "Why are you here?" Her voice held a note of worry, her eyes searching Roland's face.

"Aiden was shot," Roland told her. "Twice. In the stomach and right arm. He's been placed in a coma to help the swelling in his brain."

"Oh, my, God," Freya cried. "I'm so sorry, Roland."

She went to hug him, and he tensed at first before he reciprocated. A few tears trickled down his cheeks, and he quickly brushed them away as they separated.

"What are you doing here, Freya?" Roland asked. "Why are you here?"

"I was supposed to be at the meeting when the shooting took place," she explained. "I was running late, and by the time my cab arrived the shooting had already taken place. I couldn't believe it. All this mindless violence. And for what?" Her voice cracked with guilt and she wiped a shaking hand across her eyes.

"It's not your fault, Freya," Roland told her. "The only one responsible is the shooter. And they'll pay for this one way or another."

"I suppose so," Freya mused, clearing her throat. "Has anybody......died?"

"No," Roland answered. "Just a lot of injuries, but no deaths."

"Thank goodness," she breathed. "Have they caught the shooter?"

"No, I don't think so," Roland said. "The last thing I heard was that he was seen driving a dark-colored car towards Whitechapel. The police have been searching for him all night."

"They better find him," Freya growled. "They need to be sent to jail where he'll never hurt anybody again."

"Yeah," Roland agreed, though only partially. If Aiden or any of the victims died, Roland would be out for blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Roland lurched awake in his cot, not recognizing his surroundings. He rolled over and saw a nurse standing by Aiden's bedside, checking his vital signs. Sunlight sliced into the room through the white hospital curtains. Roland groaned and scrubbed his hands down his face. It hadn't been a dream. He sat up, the cot creaking as he did. He wore just his slacks, socks, and his shirt, now wrinkled from his sleep. His hair stuck out in unruly tendrils. Despite several people telling him that he should head home, Roland adamantly refused. He wasn't leaving until Aiden was awake. So a nurse brought him a cot and some pillows and a blanket, setting it up a few feet from Aiden's bed.

After planting a kiss on his husband's head, Roland removed his jacket, tie, vest, and his shoes and laid down on the cot, staring up at the plain ceiling. The hissing of Aiden's ventilator and the beeping of his monitor was loud and ominous. The acrid, medicinal smell burned at Roland's nose. He missed their bedroom-the feeling of Aiden's warm skin pressed against his, breath puffing against his ear, soft blond hair tickling his skin. Roland rolled over onto his side, facing Aiden's bed, his prone form unnaturally still. It Roland a long time to fall asleep. 

"How is he?" Roland asked the nurse, who was now checking Aiden's bandaged arm.

"His vitals are strong and steady," the nurse replied. "And his injuries look good, Clean and with no sign of infection."

"What about his brain?" Roland asked, putting his shoes on. "Is the swelling going down?"

The nurse, who was a man a little older than Aiden, sighed and shook his head. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blum," he said sympathetically. "The swelling hasn't gone down yet. But it will. We just have to be patient."

Roland sighed. He was beginning to hate that word. He scratched at his beard and ran a hand over his hair. 

"Why don't you go and get some coffee, Mr. Blum?" the nurse suggested. "I'll be here for a little longer checking your husband's other functions anyway."

"Alright," Roland agreed reluctantly. Coffee sounded like a good idea, and it gave him some comfort that Aiden wouldn't be alone. 

He walked out of the room. The ICU had calmed down since last night, only a few other nurses and doctors around. All the families that Roland had seen last night were gone. Freya had stuck around for a long time last night until she too left. Roland walked off in the direction of the cafeteria, feeling anxiety creep up within him with each step. What if something changed in Aiden's condition and he wasn't there? What if he woke up while Roland was gone? 

"Keep it together, Blum," Roland murmured to himself. 

He reached the cafeteria and was grateful that the smell of coffee and eggs covered the smell of the hospital. He walked over to the coffee station and made himself a cup of black, stirring in one spoon of sugar and some cream. He took a sip and glanced at the array of food the cafe had to offer. He wasn't hungry really, but he knew he wouldn't be able to function on coffee alone. He paid for the coffee along with a plate of eggs, toast, and hashbrowns, then sat down at an empty table near the window. Some nurses and doctors were eating nearby, as were a few people in street clothes. Roland picked at his food, struggling to find his appetite. 

"Holding up alright, Blum?" a man suddenly asked.

Roland looked up from his plate and saw a man in a grey suit with a red tie walking toward his table. He had neat black hair and blue eyes, his skin lightly tanned. It was Roland's boss at the Westminster firm, Gary Hartford. He sat down across from Roland and placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly. Roland stabbed at his eggs.

"I'm holding up as well as I can," he said. 

Gary nodded. "How's Aiden? Any change?"

"No," Roland answered. "The swelling hasn't gone down yet. He's still comatose."

"I'm sorry," Gary said. "First you have a heart attack and now this? What a wild first few months of marriage."

"What are you doing here, Gary?" Roland asked, now hacking at his toast. "I already called in. I'm not coming back to work until Aiden's well again."

"I know that," Gary replied. "I'm not here to hound you to come back to work."

"Then why are you here?" Roland asked. Gary hardly ever left his office during the day. 

His boss shifted in his chair. "The case you and Miller were working fell through."

"What?" Roland's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"Louis Daniels committed suicide this morning," Gary explained heavily. "He was found in his bathroom with a note admitting to his crimes. The case is closed now."

"Goddammit," Roland spat, almost snapping the plastic fork he held in half. "What a fucking coward."

"Indeed," Gary agreed. He traced a fingertip along the top of the salt shaker. "But that's not the worst news I'm bringing you."

Roland didn't like where this was going. He waited, twirling his fork anxiously. Gary Hartford sighed and leaned forward on the table.

"They caught the shooter this morning," he said, quietly.

"What?" Roland exclaimed. "Where? How?"

"Police found his car crashed in a ditch in Glasgow this morning," Gary explained. "Then they found him holed up in an old barn a mile away and arrested him on site."

"But this good news," Roland said, puzzled. "It's good that he's been found."

"Yes, it is," Gary agreed. "But....after he was arrested he asked for a lawyer. He called our firm and we gave him an attorney."

"Are fucking kidding me?" Roland snarled. "You gave that son of a bitch a lawyer? Why? Who?"

"We're lawyers, Roland," Gary stated calmly. "It's our job to defend people."

"To defend innocent people," Roland protested. "Not a fucking psychopath! Who did you give him?"

"Gallagher," Gary replied.

"Fuck me," Roland growled. 

Roger Gallagher was the most cunning, devious, self-righteous dick Roland had ever met. He was known for taking on clients who guilty of serious crimes-murder, manslaughter, rape, and so much more. He'd helped so many bastards avoid jail it was unbelievable. Roland hated his guts.

"We didn't have a choice, Roland," Gary said. 

"Yes, you did!" Roland snapped. "You could've turned him away, sent him to another firm. Do you know what'll happen once Gallagher goes to court with him? That bastard will walk out without so much as a slap on the wrist!" He was getting loud, and people were starting to stare.

"Calm down, Roland," Gary hissed.

"Don't you fucking dare tell me to calm down!" Roland shouted, slamming a fist down on the table. "You walk in here and tell me that the biggest asshole at the firm is defending the man who shot my husband and put him in a coma, and now you're telling me to calm down? Fuck you, Hartford!"

Roland stormed out of the cafeteria, feeling people's eyes on him as he stalked away back to the ICU. He arrived in Aiden's room and found Dr. Chase standing over Aiden. Roland walked over, trying to settle his thundering heartbeat. 

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Dr. Chase answered. "Unfortunately, the swelling in his brain hasn't gone down yet, but the gunshot wounds are clean and healing nicely."

"Good," Roland said. 

He watched the doctor carefully reached over and began to carefully remove the gauze that had been bound around Aiden's head. He removed it, and Aiden's thick blond hair was visible again, messy and falling across his brow. A tiny section had been shaved away just near his right ear, where a smaller patch of gauze lay. Roland smiled and reached out, stroking the wayward strands back from his husband's face. It was still soft and smooth against his fingers. He sighed at the familiarity.

"What's that bandage by his ear for?" he asked Dr. Chase

"That's where we made the incision to help the brain bleed," Dr. Chase explained. "There wasn't much bleeding, but it was concerning nonetheless."

Roland nodded and kept stroking Aiden's hair. A question he'd been wanting to ask was on his lips, but he wasn't sure how to ask it.

"Can he.....hear me?" Roland asked. "Does he hear me?"

"Yes," Dr. Chase answered. "It might not seem like it, but talking and touching comatose patients can be helpful. It helps them grow more aware of their surroundings."

"That's good to know," Roland said. It made him feel less awkward talking to Aiden in this state.

Dr. Chase patted Roland's shoulder. "If you have any other questions, feel free to ask," he said.

"Thank you," Roland said, sitting down beside Aiden's bed and taking his hand again.

The doctor nodded and left the room. Roland interlaced his and Aiden's fingers, pressing a kiss to the back of his husband's hand.

"I love you, Aiden," he whispered. "My Pretty Boy. I hope you can hear me. If you can, you just have to wake up. Let me see those big brown eyes, eyes that I can never say no to. Do you remember the first time I slept over at your house? It felt weird meeting you there instead of a hotel or something, but I'm glad I did. It helped me realize just how much I cared for you. Too bad it took me so long to say I love you."

Roland smiled at the memories, tracing the shape of their rings idly. He kissed Aiden's brow softly. 

"Wake up, Pretty Boy," he whispered against his husband's forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

Freya wasn't surprised when she found Roland still at the hospital the next day. He was sitting at Aiden's bedside, holding his hand, whispering things under his breath. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his hair and beard mussed and messy. She stepped into the room, leaving her two dark-clad bodyguards out in the hallway, and walked over to Roland.

"How is he?" she asked.

Roland jumped and turned around. His blue eyes were wide with shock, hints of what looked anger flickering their depths. He relaxed when he realized who she was. He sighed and turned back to Aiden again.

"He's fine, I guess," he said. "The swelling still hasn't gone down, but his wounds are healing nicely."

"Some good news, at least," Freya mused, staring at her ex-husband's form, listening to the hissing of the ventilator. 

His torso was covered in bandages, as was his right arm. The blankets were pulled up to his midsection, his fair hair spread out on the pillow beneath his head. If it wasn't for the various tubes and monitors he was hooked up to, he could've been sleeping. Freya pulled up another chair and sat down beside the bed.

"How are you doing?" she asked Roland.

"I've been better," he admitted flatly. "I was hoping that I would never have to set foot in another hospital again. But here we are, roles reversed."

"It'll be okay," Freya told him kindly. "Aiden's strong and resilient."

"That he is," Roland agreed. "Stubborn as well. Perhaps that's why we work so well together."

"You do have a great relationship," Freya said. "I haven't seen Aiden that happy in a long time."

"Yeah, I know," Roland replied, twirling the rings on his finger. "I never thought that I could make someone happy. Usually, I just make people miserable."

Freya laughed and Roland smiled, though it didn't extend to his eyes. He looked conflicted about something, angry.

"Are you sure you're alright, Roland?" Freya asked. "You seem very bothered about something."

She saw hesitance flit across his face before he sighed and ran a hand over his messy curls.

"I was in the cafeteria earlier this morning when my boss Gary Hartford showed up," he explained tightly. "He told me that the police found and arrested the shooter in Glasgow. After they booked him, he called the firm I work at in Westminster and got a lawyer, Roger Gallagher." He spat the name like he was spitting out blood.

"I take it that you don't like this Gallagher very much," Freya said wryly. 

"I hate his fucking guts," Roland admitted angrily. "He's notorious for getting murders and rapists acquitted, and I just know that he's going to make sure that that son of a bitch never even sets foot in prison."

"You never know," Freya tried to soothe him. "Gallagher might make a mistake. The shooter could still go to jail."

Roland snorted. "You don't know Gallagher," he said. "That bastard's slippery as a greasy eel."

Freya placed her right hand on Roland's shoulder. "You have to have faith, Roland," she told him softly. "In times like this faith and hope are all we have."

Roland nodded but didn't look like he believed her. She sighed and checked her watch. 

"I'm sorry, Roland, but I have to leave," she said. "I have to pick my son Noah from school."

"Okay," he said. "Thanks for stopping by."

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek before walking out of the room. She lingered in the doorway though, watching as Roland went back to whispering things whilst stroking Aiden's hair. She could hear the words 'please' and 'pretty boy' over and over again. She smiled and left the hospital to pick up her son.


	5. Chapter 5

Roland laid awake on his cot, staring at the hospital ceiling. It was late, at least three in the morning, but he just couldn't sleep. Too many thoughts were running through his head at once. What if Aiden never woke up? What if the shooter didn't go to jail? Would Aiden suffer any permanent damage from the shooting? One after the other, all sorts of awful thoughts bombarded his mind, especially at night, when he had nothing to distract himself. The hissing and beeping of the equipment Aiden was hooked up to only added to the anxiety, as did as the nurses and Dr. Chase coming in to check Aiden's vitals. Freya came by as often as she could, bringing clothes for Roland to change into, as well as a toothbrush, paste, other toiletries. She'd even brought flowers on Thursday, a large vase of yellow lilies that were still blooming cheerfully two days later. It had been a week since the shooting, a week since Roland had left the hospital. Maia, who called as often as she could, made sure that he took care of himself, as did Freya. 

"Aiden will need you when he wakes up," Freya had told him over lunch in the cafeteria. "You won't be able to help him if you don't look after yourself."

Roland agreed with her, especially after he'd seen his reflection in a mirror in the doctor's lounge, where he'd been showering everyday. His eyes were shadowed and tired, his hair and beard wild, untamed as a jungle thicket. He looked like he'd just been to Hell and back. 

"Dammit," Roland growled, rubbing his eyes.

He felt tired but sleep refused to come. Aiden wasn't the only thing on his mind. Gallagher had been on TV earlier today, briefing some reporters that his client, shooter Marcus Hale, was pleading insanity in regards to the shooting. Roland didn't buy it. He'd seen the look on Hale's sallow, thin face when he'd spoken to the press, fake tearing in his beady, soulless eyes as he said that he was sorry for all the pain he'd caused. He made Roland's skin crawl with imaginary bugs. 

"Come on, Blum," Roland muttered to himself. "Think about something else."

He rolled over onto his side, facing Aiden's shadowed figure on his hospital bed. He cast his mind around, trying to focus on something happier, wanting to escape this nightmare for a little bit He settled on a memory from when they were still in Chicago, a few weeks after their wedding before they flew back to England. They'd been in a park a couple blocks from the their hotel, walking around as part of Roland's recovery regiment from his heart surgery.

........................  
'He looks gorgeous in the snow,' Roland thought, staring at Aiden as they held hands and walked around the park.

His new husband walked alongside him, wearing a dark peacoat and jeans, boots, and a red scarf. A few snowflakes caught in his blond hair and his brown eyes glinted in the winter sunlight. He caught Roland staring and smiled at him.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked in a teasing voice.

"Because you're my husband," Roland replied, feeling warmth in bloom in his core. "I can't believe you're my husband."

Aiden laughed and they stepped walking, and Roland pulled him into an embrace, blue eyes staring into deep brown. He was warm and solid and real, a beacon that grounded Roland to the very Earth. Aiden reached up and caressed Roland's cheek, stroking his beard. Roland leaned into the touch like a cat, closing his eyes in bliss. When he opened them again, Aiden brought their lips together. The kiss was slow and languid, full of love and vulnerability. Their lips were cold but their tongues were warm. When they broke apart, Aiden pressed their foreheads together, interlacing the fingers of both their hands. They wore no gloves, wanting to show off the rings they each wore, the commitment that was between them.

"I love you," Roland whispered. "More than anything."

"I love you more than anything, too," Aiden whispered back.

They took a cab back to their hotel, where they stripped out of their winter clothes, took a hot shower together, and laid in bed, sipping hot chocolate mixed with rum. Roland dozed off, feeling Aiden's long fingers combing through his curls, soft lips being pressed to his forehead. 

"I love you, Roland," Aiden whispered. "I always will."  
............................  
Roland smiled at the memory and felt himself beginning to relax. He pulled the blanket up and over himself and closed his eyes, feeling at ease for the first time in a week. As he drifted off, he imagined he could still feel Aiden's soft, warm lips against his.   
..........................  
"Mr. Blum, wake up," a man's voice urged.

Roland groaned and cracked open one eye. Dr. Chase stood over him, sunlight streaming in through the window behind him. He looked excited and hurried.

"What is it?" Roland asked groggily, sitting up in his cot.

"The swelling in Aiden's brain is gone," Dr. Chase answered, grinning.

"What?" Roland asked. "Really?"

"Yes," Dr. Chase replied. "This means we can bring him out of the coma."

"That's fantastic!" Roland exclaimed, getting out of bed. "When? How soon?"

"It'll take a little bit to get the drugs out of his system and unhook him from the ventilator," Dr. Chase explained. "But once we do, he should wake up in a few hours."

Roland sighed, feeling an immense wave of relief rushing through him. 

"Thank you, Doctor," he said, offering his hand.

"You're welcome, Roland," Dr. Chase responded, shaking his hand. "We'll start on Aiden right away."

Roland smiled and nodded. Finally, things were looking up. He left the room to shower, shave, and get dressed in the doctor's lounge. He sent texts to both Maia and Freya, letting them know the good news. He arrived back in Aiden's room and found Dr. Chase and another nurse unhooking Aiden from some of the equipment. Roland felt excitement and nerves pumping through him. He walked over to Aiden's bedside and took his hand, stroking it gently. 

"Give it a couple hours," Dr. Chase said. 

Roland nodded and sat down in his usual chair, waiting with bated breath. Freya showed up about ten minutes later and swept into the room quickly.

"Is he awake yet?" she asked, coming over to the bed.

"Not yet," Roland replied "But I think we're close."

Finally, after about an hour and a hlaf, Aiden started showing signs of life. He groaned softly, grimacing and shaking his head slightly side to side on the pillow. Roland gasped and watched closely, leaning forward slightly. Aiden's eyes fluttered as he attempted to open them. It took a few times before he was able to fully open them and look around.

"Aiden, I'm Dr. Chase," Dr. Chase explained slowly. "You were injured in a shooting a week ago and have been in a medically induced coma sine then. Do you understand?"

Aiden nodded.

'i'm going to ask you some basic questions," Dr. Chase said. "Are you ready?"

Aiden nodded again.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Aiden Hoynes," Aiden replied, his voice sounding dry and raspy.

"What country are we in?"

"England."

"Do you know where you are?"

"A hospital," Aiden answered. "Not sure which one."

"That doesn't matter," Dr. Chase said. "The point of this is that you're coherent and aware."

"Aiden?" Roland asked quietly.

The younger man turned to look at him, blinking owlishly. 

"It's me. Roland," Roland said. "I'm right here."

Aiden stared at him for a long moment. Roland pressed his lips to the back of Aiden's hand, feeling tears forming in his eyes. Aiden watched him and pulled his hand away, looking uncomfortable.

"Do I know you?" he asked.


	6. Chapter 6

Roland stared at Aiden dubiously for a good thirty seconds. Aiden stared back at him, his expression uncertain and nervous. Freya and Dr. Chase were silent as well. Finally, Roland found his voice.

"Aiden, it's me, Roland," he said. "Your husband."

"Husband?" Aiden's brow furrowed. "I don't have a husband. I used to have a wife though." 

"You remember me?" Freya asked, speaking for the first time. 

"Of course I do," Aiden said. "It's nice to see you, Freya."

"How the hell can you remember her but not me?" Roland asked, not believing that this was happening.

"Probably because I've never seen you before," Aiden replied.

Roland started to protest more when Dr. Chase intervened.

"This could be just temporary amnesia," he said. "Let me speak with Aiden alone, run some more tests."

Roland wanted to refuse, but Freya put her hand on his arm and motioned toward the door. He sighed and stood up from his chair, looking at Aiden, who looked away, before walking out of the room. They sat outside Aiden's room. Well, Freya sat, while Roland paced around in front of her, running his hands through his hair like a madman. 

"I can't fucking believe this," he muttered. "Why the hell doesn't he remember me?"

"Dr. Chase said it could just be temporary," Freya said, trying to calm him. "I've heard of things happening like this after brain injuries."

Roland grunted and kept pacing. Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Chase came out into the hallway. He looked grim. Roland felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

"How is he?" he asked.

"His memory seems.....fragmented," Dr. Chase explained slowly. "He remembers some things, like his old life with Freya, memories from when he was a child, but his memory about you is a blank slate."

"What?" Roland asked, voice cracking with emotion. "Why? How?"

"Amnesia is fairly common after brain injuries or bleeds," Dr, Chase said. "His memory will come back, either in time or if it's triggered somehow."

"Triggered? Like a goddamn booby trap?" Roland demanded. "What the fuck is the trigger?" His voice was rising. People were looking over at them.

"Calm down, Roland," Freya interjected quickly.

Roland clenched his fists and took a deep breath. His heartbeat slowed down.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," he said. "Continue."

"Aiden's memory could be triggered by just you being here," Dr. Chase explained. "If you talk with him, tell him about your life together, his memory might come back."

"What if it doesn't?" Roland asked.

"You can't think like that,": Dr. Chase said sternly. "You have to have hope."

Hope. A four-letter word that Roland normally didn't believe in. Now it was all he had. He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face.

"Can I speak with him?" he asked. "Does he even want to speak with me?"

"He told me he'd be willing to try," Dr. Chase said. "I think it's worth a shot."

Roland nodded, taking another deep breath and moved toward the closed door to Aiden's room. Freya nodded at him encouragingly, and he relaxed slightly as he opened the door and stepped inside. Aiden was sitting up in bed, propped up with pillow under his back. He was irritably scratching at the rough blanket of stubble peppering his jaw, and Roland's heart broke a little more when he noticed that he wasn't wearing his wedding rings. They were now sitting on the bedside table beside the vase of flowers from Freya. He'd grown thinner during his coma despite the nutrients that had been pumped into him. He looked at Roland, still standing by the door, reluctant to come closer.

"You can come closer," he said. "I won't bite."

Roland held back a sexual reply and peeled himself away from the door, coming over and sitting by Aiden's bedside again. The Englishman watched him like he was examining something in a petri dish. Roland shifted anxiously under his gaze. 

"I'm sorry if I was a little forward before," he said. "I'm just happy that you're awake now."

"Thanks," Aiden replied. "It's good to be awake."

"How do you feel?" Roland asked. "Does anything hurt?"

"Not really," Aiden replied. "The bandages are itching, but I guess that means the wounds are healing."

"Do you remember the shooting?" Roland asked.

When he didn't respond right away, Roland tried to cover the silence.

"You don't have to answer that," he said quickly. "I was just curious."

"It's alright," Aiden replied. "I remember the shooting rather clearly actually. One minute I was talking with one of the newest Parliament members, the next we heard shots being fired. We tried to escape, but there wasn't anywhere to hide or run to. The last thing I remember was feeling this intense pain in my stomach and my arm, then everything went dark."

He stopped talking and studied Roland again, carefully, his eyes narrowed slightly. 

"Are you really my husband?" he asked.

"Yes," Roland answered, showing him the rings he still wore, the stones glinting in the lights. "We got married in Chicago five months ago, after I recovered from my heart attack and the resulting surgery." 

Aiden blinked and raised his left eyebrow shrewdly. "We got married that quickly? And what heart attack?"

"You really don't remember?" Roland asked quietly.

"No," Aiden admitted. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Roland promised. "We don't have to rush this."

"But I want to remember," Aiden said. "If I married someone as handsome as you, I want to remember."

"Handsome?" Roland smiled slightly. "I'd say we're off to a good start. We'll take this slow, and hopefully, we can help your memory."

Aiden nodded confidently. "I'm in."


	7. Chapter 7

"How are things going with Aiden?" Maia asked.

Roland groaned in answer, running a hand over his wild curls.

"That bad, huh?" Maia said, seeing the pain on his face.

It had been two weeks since Aiden had been brought out of his coma. Dr. Chase had removed the bandages from his stomach and arm, revealing a few minor scars from the bullets, but nothing more extreme. Aiden still wasn't approved for discharge, as he still needed to regain the weight and muscle loss from being prone for so long. He walked around the hospital twice a day and did exercises in his room-push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks. Everything was in working order, except for his memory. Despite Roland's constant presence, he still didn't remember anything about their life together. Roland had tried everything. He explained how they first met, when they admitted they loved each other, Roland moving in with Aiden and getting a job a firm in Westminster, only flying back to America when he had to. He told Aiden the whole story about their marriage, but he still remembered nothing. Everyday it got harder and harder for Roland to be around him. Brown eyes that used to look at him with love and warmth now looked at him with confusion. Perfect lips that used to smile and kiss him were now almost always frowning. Roland's heart broke more with each passing day.

"I don't know what else to do, Maia," he told her via video chat. "Nothing I've done has worked so far. What else can I do?"

"I don't know," Maia admitted sadly. "Is there anything you can do?"

"The only thing I haven't done to jog his memory is kiss him," Roland muttered. "But this isn't 'Sleeping Beauty.' And even if it was, I don't want to kiss him if it makes him uncomfortable. That's the last thing I want right now."

"It could work," Maia mused. "If you just ask him I'm sure he'd let you."

"Maybe," Roland said. "I'll think about it."

"Good luck, Roland," Maia said.

"Thanks," he replied, ending the video chat and stretching.

He was sitting on a bench outside the hospital. After another long day of failed attempts to jog Aiden's memory, he needed some air. He sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket, standing up and cracking the joints in his neck loudly. He walked back inside and headed back towards Aiden's room. He was still sleeping in there on a cot, hoping that somehow that would help his lover remember. But it just seemed to be creeping him out a little. Roland walked into the room but Aiden wasn't in there. Where would he go? He stepped back out into the hallway and caught hold of a nurse behind the reception desk.

"Have you seen Aiden Hoynes, the man who's been staying in this room the last few weeks?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," the nurse answered dutifully. "He's out in the courtyard."

"Thank you," Roland said, walking away.

He made his way down a long hallway that led to the hospital's inner courtyard, filled with flower gardens, bird feeders and baths, a large fountain in the center, and a long, winding path, perfect for patients who were recovering from something especially traumatic. It was where Aiden often jogged in the evenings as part of his recovery regiment. Roland stepped through the automatic door and into the courtyard, breathing in the crisp night air. He looked around, not seeing Aiden at first, until he spotted him leaning against a tall tree. He wore sweatpants and a thin hoodie, his hair windswept. Roland smiled and started to walk over to him, but then he froze in his tracks, feeling the color drain from his face. Aiden was leaning against the tree, an easy, genuine smile on his face while he chatted to handsome young man dressed in nursing scrubs. The man tilted his head back and laughed, placing his hand on Aiden's arm and stepping closer.

"No," Roland whispered. His heart, which already ached, was now completely broken.

Hands shaking, tears forming in his eyes, Roland bolted from the courtyard and back into the hospital, almost careening into Freya in his haste.

"Roland, my God, what's wrong?" she asked when she saw the state he was in.

He opened his mouth to answer, but only a sob came out. He pushed past her down the hallway and into the nearest men's room. He burst inside and luckily found it empty. He stormed over to the sink, gripping the edge so tight his knuckles were white. His heart was racing and he was breathing raggedly. Tears streamed from his tired, shadowed eyes, drenching his beard. Aiden, his Aiden, carelessly flirting with a stranger. So many emotions swirled through Roland at that moment-anger, betrayal, sadness. He let out a broken sob, crying with more force than he ever had in his life, collapsing to the floor in front of the sink, lost in emotion. Eventually, he pulled himself together and stood up, splashed some water on his face, dried his eyes, blew his nose, and walked back to Aiden's room. The door was shut, but he could hear the conversation taking place on the other side.

"You're hurting him," Freya's voice said angrily. "You've been hurting him."

"Don't you think I know that?" Aiden's voice said irritably. "I'm not trying to hurt him, but I can't be forced to feel something I don't."

"Can't you at least try?" Freya asked.

"I have been," Aiden snapped. "I've listened to all the stories, seen the pictures, but I just don't remember. I can't keep doing this. Maybe I loved him enough to marry him at one time, but I don't feel that way anymore."

Roland sank his teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood.

"How can you say that?" Freya demanded. "I've never seen a couple more in love than you two! You were more in love than I've ever seen you! And what the fuck was that nurse in the courtyard?"

"It's easier to be around somebody that doesn't look at me with sad blue eyes," Aiden said, sounding tired. "I'm sorry, Freya. I just can't keep leading Roland on like this. It isn't fair to either of us."

Roland choked and opened the door. Aiden and Freya both looked over, shocked. Freya stood by the window, her hands on her hips, lips open in shock. Aiden stood by his bed, his expression unreadable.

"I heard everything," Roland stated, his voice slow and careful. He walked across the room toward Aiden and stood in front of him, staring into his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Roland," he said. "I just can't, I don't..." He trailed off.

"I understand," Roland said, though he truly didn't. He took the rings on his left off and set them on the bedside table, tears welling up in his eyes again.

"You don't have to tied to me anymore," he told Aiden. "And you don't have to try and remember me anymore. Goodbye, Aiden."

Roland walked toward the door, tears coursing silently down his face.

"Roland," Aiden said, voice barely audible.

Roland turned to look at him one last time.

"I'm sorry," Aiden said.

"Goodbye, Aiden," Roland replied, walking out of the room and out of the hospital into the dark night.


	8. Chapter 8

Aiden wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, panting. It had been three days since he'd last seen Roland Blum, the man who claimed to be his husband. Aiden felt terrible for what had happened between them, but he just couldn't remember him. Every time Aiden looked at him, he'd felt this nagging feeling at the back his mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch. There was something familiar about Roland, but he didn't know what. It was actually quite the relief when he finally stopped hanging around, though Aiden wondered where he'd gone. Freya still came by, though he could tell that she was upset with him too.

"Couldn't you have tried harder to remember?" she'd asked him one day in the courtyard.

"I did try hard," Aiden griped. "It's not my fault nothing worked, and I wasn't about to let him kiss me, even though he's tried."

Freya sighed at his response and crossed her arms. "I'm worried about him. I haven't seen him in three days."

"I'm sure he's fine," Aiden had replied, though in truth, he was a tad worried too.

He'd never seen that kind of sadness on someone's face before. It was like all the happiness had been drained from Roland, leaving just a shell of sadness and anger and frustration. Aiden shook his head and walked out of the bathroom. He was still in the hospital, but Dr. Chase had told him that he could be discharged in the morning. Hallelujah. Aiden was getting sick of being in there. He stripped off his sweaty hoodie and sat down on the bed, running a hand through his soaked hair and then across his jaw, clean-shaven after being covered in stubble for a week. He reached toward the side table for his water bottle and noticed the rings still sitting there. He picked them up and studied them. They were cold to the touch and looked expensive. One was smooth, matte black, set with a blue stone and red stone, with Roland's name engraved on the inside. Two of the rings were silver, one set with green stones, with the initials 'R. B.' engraved on it, while the other silver one had the same stones as the black one, Aiden's name on it. The last ring was highly polished gold, blood-red rubies glinting along it. Aiden's initials were engraved on that one. That one and the other silver one had been on his left hand when he'd woke up. They didn't seem familiar, beautiful though they were. He wondered why Roland had left his here.

"Strange," Aiden muttered, placing the jewelry on the table again and grabbing the water bottle.

He drained the water and left the bed again, turning on the TV to fill the silence while he went back into the bathroom to change his clothes. While he was in there, Freya came into the room and waited by his bed. She looked over in the corner, where Roland's cot used to be. A nurse had come by to collect it when he stopped showing up. She was concerned about him. His heart had been broken in more ways than one. Aiden didn't seem to care at all, and that was the reason she was here: to talk some sense into that thick, stubborn skull of his. After a few minutes, he came out of the bathroom, wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. He stopped and raised an eyebrow when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"To talk to you," Freya replied. "You need to speak with Roland again. You broke his heart."

Aiden growled angrily. "Look. I'm sorry for what happened with him, okay? But I told you before that I won't be forced to feel something I don't. He'll get over this and find someone else."

"He doesn't want somebody else, he wants you!" Freya yelled at him. "Don't you get it? He loves you despite you're amnesia, yet you kicked him to the curb!"

"Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do?" Aiden shouted back. "Lead him on, act like I love him when I don't? That's not fair to him or me!"

"Aiden, I swear you are the most stubborn man I've ever met," Freya growled.

"Yes, you've made that very clear," Aiden muttered. "I get it. I'm an idiot for not remembering a complete stranger. Would you just leave me alone?"

"Fine," Freya said. "I give up. Have a nice life, Aiden."

She turned to leave and Aiden clenched his fist, turning to face the window. And at that moment, on the TV, which had been turned to some old, black-and-white movie, one of the characters said tenderly to another one, "What a pretty boy you are."

At the same moment, Aiden inhaled sharply as a headache pierced his skull like an ice-pick. He grabbed at his hair and sunk to his knees on the floor. His heart was racing, his ears ringing. Freya ran over and knelt beside him, asking what was wrong, but her voice sounded far away. Memories rushed through Aiden's brain like a dam bursting-a drunken hook-up in hotel room, a love confession after eight weeks apart, lazy kisses early in the morning, hot showers together, a wedding in a small Chicago church, bright blue eyes and a warm voice whispering, "I love you, Pretty Boy."

Aiden opened his eyes, gasping. Sweat soaked his body. He was laid out on the floor on his back, Freya sounding frantic as she called for help. Aiden sat up slowly, wiping his brow, hand shaking slightly. Freya ran back over to him with Dr. Chase in tow, They both knelt beside him.

"Aiden, are you alright?" Dr. Chase asked. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," he replied. "I can hear you."

"What happened?" Freya asked.

"I remember," Aiden whispered.

"What?" she asked.

"I remember," he said, louder, raising his head. "I remember everything."

"You do?" Dr. Chase sounded amazed. "How? What happened?"

Aiden hesitated. He didn't want to explain what or how it happened. A dense knot of guilt was forming in his heart. He needed to find Roland. He stood up slowly despite protests from Freya and Dr. Chase.

"Take it easy," Dr. Chase advised. "I need to test your memory, make sure it really has returned."

"Here's your test," Aiden snapped. "I married Roland Blum five months ago in Chicago after he had heart surgery. We met when I was drunk in at a pub in Westminster. He lives with me and loves me more than anything. And I love him more than anything!"

Freya grinned. "You're back, Aiden."

"Yes, I am," he agreed. He looked at Dr. Chase. "Remember you said I could be discharged in the morning?"

"Yes," the doctor replied. "Why?"

"How about we change that to right the hell now? I have a husband I need to find."

.....................  
"When's the last time you saw Roland?" Aiden asked Freya as they drove.

"I haven't seen him since he left the hospital," she admitted. "I don't think anyone has."

"Fuck," Aiden muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'll check the house first, I guess."

"Do you really think he'd be there?" Freya asked him, merging onto the road that led to Aiden's neighborhood.

"No," he answered. "But it's the only place I can check this late at night."

Freya nodded in agreement and kept driving. Aiden stared out the window, feeling guilt and remorse swimming through his veins. Even if he found Roland, would he even take him back? Aiden had hurt him deeply. He wouldn't blame Roland if he never wanted to see him again. The car lurched to a stop in front of the house. Aiden suddenly felt nervous. He hadn't been home in weeks. There were no lights on or cars in the driveway. Aiden gulped and got out the car.

"Good luck, Aiden," Freya told him. "Let me know when you find him."

"I will," he promised. "Thank you, Freya."

She smiled at him and drove away into the night. He turned to look at the house. It looked dark and ominous, like a hollowed-out skull. He took a deep breath and walked up the porch, through the gate, up to the front door. He took his keys from his jeans pocket and unlocked the door, stepping inside and switching on the lights.

"Roland?" he called out hesitantly. "Are you here?"

No answer. The house was silent and still. Aiden licked his dry lips, closing the door behind him and walking through the house. There was a broken glass on the floor in the living room, shards laying in a dried puddle of bourbon. He stepped over the mess and into the kitchen. Nothing in there except dust on the counters and the table. Aiden's heart began to beat faster. He left the kitchen and went upstairs to the bedroom. The door was shut but not locked. He opened it and stepped inside. The bed was still mussed from their last lovemaking weeks ago. Aiden smiled at the sight and stroked the soft sheets. He looked over at the closet and felt his heart sink. It was wide open, and all of Roland's clothes, including his red jacket, were gone.

"No," Aiden whispered. "No, please, no."

He tore back downstairs, his mind working a mile a minute. Had Roland already left? Was he on a flight right now? A sob pushed its way from Aiden's chest, warm tears filling his eyes. He couldn't be too late. He paced about, heart racing, hands messing his hair. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through the contact list. He thought about calling Roland, but what were the chances that he would answer? Not likely. He kept scrolling until he found Maia's number and selected it. He brought the phone to his ear, biting the nails of his other hand.

"Hello?" Maia's voice asked.

"Maia, thank God," Aiden breathed.

"Aiden?" she asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," he said. "I got my memory back."

"That's fantastic!" she exclaimed. "Are you and Roland celebrating?"

"No," Aiden admitted sadly. "That's why I'm calling. Nobody has seen Roland in three days, since he.....said goodbye to me." His voice broke with emotion. "Have you spoken to him at all since then?"

"I have actually," Maia said. "He called me yesterday, saying the he was planning on coming back here."

"What?" Aiden gripped the phone so tight his knuckles were white. "Did he say when?"

"He said Saturday morning," Maia answered. "7:AM."

"Fuck, that's today," Aiden said to himself. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 5:AM. He had two hours, then he could lose Roland forever. "Did he say what hotel he was planning on staying at?"

"No," Maia answered sadly. "I'm sorry, Aiden. Also, there's something else you should know."

"What's that?" he asked, heart clenching in his chest.

"Roland sounded....off when he called me," she explained. "Like he was high or drunk."

"Oh, no," Aiden murmured. He should've known that a broken heart would have caused Roland to return to his old habits. "Thanks, Maia."

"Of course," she said. "Good luck, Aiden."

They hung up and Aiden left the house, pulling up a list of all the hotels near and around Heathrow Airport. The clock was ticking now.


	9. Chapter 9

Aiden sighed as he walked out the hotel into the cool morning air. He had been searching for Roland all morning, checking all the hotels near and around Heathrow with no luck. He took his phone out and crossed the one he'd just checked off the list. He raked a hand through his messy blond hair. It was now six fifteen am. He was running out of time. He got back into his rental car, as he still had yet to get his own car back from the scene of the shooting. He drained the rest of the coffee in the paper cup in the cup holder and crumpled it up, tossing it carelessly into the back seat.

"Last one," he murmured, checking his phone. 

The last hotel was called 'King's Sleep Suite', located directly next to Heathrow. The name sounded familiar to Aiden, though he couldn't place why. His head ached too much, as did his eyes, which red and bloodshot with fatigue and from his crying. He drove to the next hotel and found that it was fairly crowded. He parked along the side street and stepped out across the parking lot. The hotel was large and imposing, looking like a castle painted white and red like a playing card. Now Aiden recognized it. This was the same hotel Roland had been staying at the night Aiden had arrived to his room, saying that he was developing feelings for Roland despite what the other man had said about not doing feelings.

'Why would Roland stay here?' Aiden thought, entering the main lobby and making a beeline for the front desk.

"Excuse me," he said to the man standing there. "Is there an American man named Roland Blum staying here?"

"Why?" the man asked, narrowing his eyes. "Are you the police?"

"No," Aiden replied impatiently. "I just need to find him quickly."

The man eyed him a minute more before typing something into his computer. Aiden shifted anxiously as he typed.

"Yes, a man named Roland Blum checked in here three days ago," the man replied, reading his computer screen. "Room 314."

"Is he still here?" Aiden asked hopefully. 

"I believe so."

Aiden's heart leaped in chest. "What floor is room 314 on?"

"The third floor," the man answered.

Aiden tore away from the desk and toward the elevator. He pressed the button to summon it, but didn't have the patience and located the stairs, taking them three at a time. His lungs burned and sweat stung his eyes as he finally reached the third floor. He jogged down the hallway and found room 314. 

"Roland, are you in there?" Aiden asked, knocking. He strained his ears, but couldn't hear anything except to sound of planes taking off at the airport. "Please, love if you're in there, I'm so sorry for everything I did." His voice cracked. 

Nobody came to the door, and Aiden began to get desperate. He took his credit card out of his wallet and gingerly used it to open the locked door. He stepped into the room and switched the light on. His heart sank as he looked around the room. It was wrecked. Broken bottles of beer and Heineken crunched under his shoes. The coffee table was overturned, the bed in disarray. A familiar crumpled packet of pills, completely empty, was on the nightstand. The bathroom was trashed as well, the shower curtain ripped down, the mirror broken. 

"Roland," Aiden whispered, looking around the wrecked room. "What have I done to you?"

His phone started ringing. He hastily pulled it out of his pocket. It was the timer he'd set. It was now six fifty. He was running out of time. His only hope now was to catch Roland at the airport. He ran out of the room, closing the door behind him, and ran back downstairs, through the lobby, and back outside. He ran across the packed hotel parking lot and across the road, almost getting hit by several cars, horn honking angrily at him as he ran like a madman toward Heathrow. He burst inside panting, looking wildly around. A security guard saw him and walked over.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked him.

"Has the 7:AM flight to America left yet?" Aiden asked her quickly.

"They're boarding now," she replied. "Gate B. Is there-"

Aiden didn't let her finish. He ran through the terminal, dodging people and leaping over luggage. The security guard yelled after him, telling people to stop him. Several other guards tried to intercept him, but he bypassed them by running through the crowds. He spotted a sign that read 'Gate B' hanging at the end of the security checkpoint. He was soaked in sweat, hair plastered to his face, chest heaving for breath, but surged on, running and dodging through security, even jumping over a guard that tried to tackle him like a rugby player. He reached Gate B, but there was nobody sitting around waiting for the flight. 

"No, God, please, no," Aiden panted.

He rushed toward the window and felt his heart break and stop beating. A plane was streaking away from the airport and up into the cloudy sky, taking away his only source of happiness in the world. Anguish wrapped around Aiden like a straight jacket. He didn't even register the pain as a guard tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the floor and cuffing his hands behind his back. Tears streamed from his stinging eyes as the guard stood him up and made him sit down in one of the chairs at the gate. He glared at the ground, not even struggling at the tightness of the cuffs.

"Come along, sir," the guard said gruffly.

Aiden grunted and stood up, letting himself be led away from the gate. He stared at the ground as the guard brought him to one of the cells in the Security Wing and sat him down on the bench without removing the cuffs.

"You want to tell me what the hell you think you were doing, son?" the guard asked.

Aiden didn't answer, just continued to glare at the floor, tears still dripping down his face. He had failed at a lot of things in life-as a father, a politician, and now as a husband. Twice.


	10. Chapter 10

Roland's head ached as the plane took off. The last three days were a hazy blur. After he'd left Aiden in the hospital, he went off the rails. He'd been more drunk in the past three days then he'd been in a long time, also indulging in his opioids yet again. He'd gone through a whole pack in his hotel room the night before the flight and had trashed the place, fueled by heartache and rage and Heineken. He'd only avoided being arrested or thrown out because he left money to pay for the damage. His phone, off at the moment, had been ringing nonstop as well, calls and messages from Maia, Freya, and Gary Hartford clogging up his voicemail. Gary was only calling him to try and get him to come back to work, but Roland refused. He'd quit after Gallagher helped that son of a bitch Marcus Hale avoid jail. Besides, since Aiden didn't remember him, there was nothing left for him in England now.

"Roland, don't do this," Maia had said when he'd called her to let her know he was coming back to stay this time. "Aiden just needs more time."

"He can have all the time he wants now," Roland had replied, draining the remnants of his beer. "He doesn't need me anymore."

He'd hung up before she could issue anymore protests. Now here he was, hungover and broken-hearted, heading back to his sad life in America. He pressed his forehead against the cool window and rubbed his dry, prickly eyes behind his sunglasses. He rubbed the ring finger of his left hand. He developed that habit ever since he'd given his rings back to Aiden. He was so used to them being there that now that they weren't he felt somehow naked, raw, vulnerable. Roland closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would help the pain and emptiness in his heart. Suddenly, an announcement came over the plane's speaker system.

"Folks, this is your captain speaking. Due to the inclement weather we're going to have to disembark and head back to Heathrow once it clears. We'll resume flight tomorrow at a specified time."

Several people groaned and cursed as the plane changed course and flew back toward Heathrow. Roland looked over his sunglasses out the window. Sure enough, the clouds had darkened to almost black, looking sinister and threatening. Lightning flashed in the distance. Roland groaned as well and buckled his seat belt as the plane began to land at the airport again. The last thing he wanted was to spend anymore time in this heartbreak hotel, but now it seemed like he didn't have a choice. The plane landed and passengers began getting up, taking their luggage down from the overhead bins and filing into the terminal again. Roland followed suit, dragging his suitcase behind him as he walked back into the airport. Something seemed a little off. People were chatting amiably about a man who'd run through the airport like nutcase, bypassing the security guards until he was finally tackled and cuffed in Gate B.

"He ran like he was trying to stop that flight from leaving," one woman was saying to her friend. "I saw the guard lead him away. He looked heartbroken and wasn't even putting up a fight."

Roland quirked his eyebrows. He wished he could've seen that. Thunder crashed as the rain began to fall in torrents outside. Roland sighed. It looked like he really was stuck here for the time being. Well, he might as well go get a drink. He walked through the terminal, back outside, and hailed a taxi. He got inside after putting his suitcase in the back and told the driver to head to the nearest pub. They obeyed and drove away from the airport, windshield wipers squeaking against the glass as the rain poured. The cab stopped a few minutes later outside a pub called 'Wolf Heart' that was also a hotel. Roland paid the fee and exited the cab, quickly grabbing his suitcase and ducking inside the pub to get out of the rain. He bypassed the front desk and went to the bar, ordering himself a glass of bourbon. As the bartender fixed his drink, he took his cellphone out of his pocket and turned it on. Almost instantly, a whole list of missed calls and voicemails lit up the screen. Roland sighed and began to delete them and noticed that almost all of them were from Freya. She'd called and left over twenty messages. What was she so desperate to tell him?

"Maybe I should call her back," he mused aloud as the bartender put his glass of bourbon on the bar.

He sipped his drink and dialed Freya's number. The line had only rung a few times before she answered.

"Finally," she said when she picked up. "I've been trying to call you for the last three days."

"Sorry," Roland replied. "Haven't been in the mood to socialize. What do you want?"

"Where are you right now?" she asked.

"In a hotel bar called Wolf Heart," he answered. "My flight delayed because of the weather. Why?"

"Aiden got his memory back," Freya said.

Roland spewed bourbon across the bar, coughing as the liquid filled his nose. "What?"

"He got his memory back," Freya said again. "He spent the whole morning looking for you and tracked you down at the airport, but your plane was already taking off when he got there. He was arrested and I had to bail him out."

"Fucking Christ," Roland gasped. "Where is he now?"

"I took him home," she answered. "He's really broken up, Roland."

"Pretty Boy," Roland whispered. "Thanks, Freya."

He hung up and slapped some money on the bar, then hastily ran outside and caught another cab. He climbed inside and told the driver Aiden's address. His heart was racing as the cab drove through the rain.

.......................  
A few minutes later, the cab stopped outside Aiden's house. His car was in the driveway, but there were no lights on. Rain kept falling steadily. Roland exited the cab after paying the driver and grabbing his suitcase again. He took a deep breath and walked through the gate and up the porch. He lingered at the door, hand raised to knock. He hesitated for several minutes, the rain soaking his clothes and hair, plastering his curls to his head. Finally, he knocked, tentatively at first, then more incessant. He rang the doorbell and saw the living room light flick on. Footsteps approached the door, locks clicking as the knob turned and the door opened. Aiden stood in the doorway, He was a mess. His blond hair was nest of unruly locks, his brown eyes red and bloodshot. He wore his green sweater and jeans, barefoot and holding a bottle of whiskey in his right hand. On his left hand, four rings glinted: he was wearing Roland's rings.

He blinked listlessly, eyes a tad unfocused. "Roland?" His voice was thick with emotion.

"Pretty Boy?" Roland asked.

They stared at each other for a long moment, tears welling up in their eyes. Aiden dropped the bottle of whiskey, glass shards and amber liquid coating the porch as Roland tackled Aiden to the floor in a desperate embrace. Aiden reciprocated, wrapping his arms around his older lover, holding him close. They cried into each other, Roland's tears soaking his lover's sweater. Aiden was sobbing to, run his fingers through Roland's damp curls.

"I'm so sorry, love," he whispered. "I didn't mean to put you through this. I'm sorry for the things I said."

Roland raised his head from Aiden's chest, sniffling. He kissed his husband deeply, cupping his face in his palms. Aiden sighed into the kiss, gripping Roland's shoulders tightly. 

"I never thought I'd get to do this again," Roland whispered. "I've missed you so much, Aiden."

"I've missed you, too," Aiden whispered. "But you'll never lose me again. I love you more than anything."

"I love you more than anything, too," Roland replied. "My Pretty Boy."

They stayed on the floor for a long time, drinking each other in, fitting together like puzzle pieces, made for each other.

At one point, Aiden slid Roland's rings off his hand and gave them back to him, slipping them onto his left ring finger. Roland sighed. He was whole again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! I was planning to drag this out more, but I think I've tortured you guys enough lol. Thanks so much for reading!

Roland stared up at the familiar bedroom ceiling, listening to the rain patter gently on the roof. Aiden was laying on top of him, their legs tangled together, naked skin against naked skin, his blond hair tickling Roland's chin, begging him to press a kiss there. His lover's warm breath ghosted across his chest. It had been a few hours since Roland had showed up on Aiden's doorstep after finding out that he had regained his memory. After a tearful reunion on the living room floor, the atmosphere between then shifted from relief to desperation. They traded deep kisses while fumbling to remove clothes and walked over to the couch. Roland sat down and pulled Aiden into his lap, both of them moaning when their bare skin brushed against each other. Since they'd had no lube at the time, they settled for frottage. Roland grabbed their erections in his hand and stroked them slowly and languidly, using their precome to ease the way, kissing Aiden the whole time. It didn't long for both of them to come. It had been so long since they'd last been intimate it was impossible to delay their release. Afterward, once they'd got some lube, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. They made love over and over again-in the shower, the kitchen, the living room again, and once more in the bedroom before passing out in each other's arms. 

Now Roland wasn't sure what time it was, and he didn't care. All he cared about was that he had Aiden back in his life, hopefully forever. He gave in and pressed a kiss to the top of Aiden's head, relishing the scent of his hair and the softness against his lips. There were still some things he needed to address, like seeing if he could get his old job back or find another one at a different firm. But all of that could wait for a while. He had more important things to do, like holding his husband close and studying him carefully. He'd gained back the weight and muscle he'd lost in the hospital. His hair was a little longer, blond strands falling across his forehead and the back of his neck. The scars from the bullet wounds were small but turned Roland on immensely, especially since he'd discovered that the one on Aiden's stomach was now very sensitive, the perfect place for him to kiss and scrape his teeth across. He felt his cock twitch against his thigh and hissed lightly. The last orgasm he'd had had been a powerful one. He needed time to recover. Aiden probably fared no better, so it was good that they were taking a break. 

'Maybe I should get us something to eat,' Roland thought. 'Or at least drink.'

He debated that thought for a minute but then Aiden muttered something under his breath, eyes crinkling as he shifted impossibly closer, nuzzling the tattoo on Roland's chest. The older man smiled, stroking his husband's shoulder. He was too comfortable to leave the bed at the moment, so he closed his eyes again and slipped into a light doze that quickly turned into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

....................  
The feeling of the bed shifting made Roland stir. He blinked his eyes open and yawned, feeling warm and comfortable. Rain was still falling steadily outside. 

"Good morning," Aiden whispered warmly.

Roland smiled at his husband and caressed his cheek. A necklace of love bites showed around his neck, his lips still kiss-bitten and red. 

"Good morning," Roland purred. "Is it still morning?"

"I'm not sure," Aiden admitted with a shrug, his head still on his husband's chest. "Might be a little past noon now, actually."

"Guess that means we'll have to get up eventually," Roland said.

"Maybe," Aiden agreed, crawling up Roland's body, hovering over him. "Or we could pick up where we left off."

Roland hummed as they kissed, tongues gliding against each other, but his cock was still sensitive and he grunted when Aiden touched it. The younger instantly froze, eyes searching Roland's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Roland replied. "Just a little sensitive." He grinned. "You've worn me out, Pretty Boy."

Aiden chuckled and laid down beside him, stroking his long fingers through his husband's beard. "I can wait."

They laid in silence for a little bit, listening to the rain. Then Aiden noticed a troubled look cross Roland's face. He tilted his husband's chin up to look into his blue eyes. They were dark and pensive.

"What's wrong?" Aiden asked quietly. 

"It's nothing," Roland replied dismissively.

"Roland, love," Aiden murmured gently. "We both have gone our respective Hell and come back from it. You know you can tell me anything now. You always can."

Roland chewed his lips anxiously for a minute, then grabbed Aiden's left hand with his, interlacing their fingers so that their rings clacked together. 

"What triggered your memory?" he asked, so softly that Aiden almost didn't hear him over the rain.

"I had the TV in my room on when Freya came to talk some sense into me," Aiden explained, stroking Roland's knuckles. "We argued because she wanted me to talk to you. Nobody had seen you in three days and she was worried about the state you'd been in when you left the hospital. I was worried too, and frustrated, because every time I looked at you, it felt like I should know you, but at the same time I didn't. I yelled at her to just leave me alone, and as she walked out of the room, a character in a movie on the TV said, "'What a pretty boy you are.'" He paused for a moment, then continued. "Next thing I knew, I had this awful headache and collapsed to the floor while all my memories about you came rushing back. I made Dr. Chase move up my discharge so I could go look for you. I panicked when I came to the house and saw that your clothes were gone."

Roland winced at that. "I'm sorry for that," he said. "I just figured that because you didn't remember me, there was no point in me staying. I'd already quit my job after Gallagher got your shooter acquitted, so I booked a flight back to Chicago and just went crazy."

"I saw how wrecked your hotel room was," Aiden said. "Maia told me that you booked a flight, but she didn't know what hotel you were staying at, so I searched for you all morning, then rushed through the airport, but when I saw your plane leaving, I lost all hope."

"People were talking about you in the airport," Roland said wryly. "Said you were running like you were trying to stop the plane from taking off."

Aiden laughed. "I would've hurled myself onto the runway."

Roland laughed as well and they kissed. Aiden cupped Roland's face in his other hand and felt wetness against his fingers. He opened his eyes and saw that his husband was crying.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"I'm just relieved that you got your memory back that way instead of some.....other way," Roland confessed. 

"What do you mean?" Aiden asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I saw you with that nurse in the courtyard at the hospital," Roland said. "You were laughing and smiling, and he was touching you. I was afraid that you only got your memory back because you were kissing or.....sleeping with someone else."

Aiden's eyes welled with tears. He cupped Roland's face in both his hands, pressing their foreheads together.

"I am so, so sorry, Roland," he cried softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you or break your heart. You're the only one I want to kiss and sleep with for the rest of my life."

"You promise?" Roland asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I promise," Aiden sniffled. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too, Pretty Boy," Roland said, kissing him passionately

Aiden moaned into the kiss, pushing Roland onto his back and straddling his waist. The older man's cock was fully erect and leaking. Aiden grabbed his husband's erection and started to guide it toward his entrance.

"Wait," Roland said quickly. "We don't have to do this if you're too sore."

"I deserve a little pain after all I've caused you," Aiden replied.

He sank down easily onto Roland's cock, his hole still slick and open from previous rounds. He hissed at the stretch and Roland rubbed soothing circles into his hip bones with his thumbs. They both moaned as Aiden sank to the hilt, resting his hands on Roland's chest, stroking the heart-shaped tattoo with his name inside it. Roland moaned at the sight of his seed leaking from Aiden's hole as the Englishman began to move, raising himself up and slamming back down, moaning and gasping his husband's name. The room filled with their moaning, the sound of skin against skin, the creaking of the mattress. Roland sat up and pulled Aiden into an embrace, kissing and licking at the love bites already on his neck and chest. He trailed kisses up his husband's lithe chest to his lips.

"I love you," they both said between kisses. 

They climaxed together just as the sun broke through the clouds outside. Aiden slumped against his husband's chest, panting, reveling in the feeling of being filled by his lover. Roland cradled him close as he laid back down, still buried inside Aiden. He looked over at the window, at the sun shining and drying up the rain and chasing away the clouds.

"Sun's out," he said. "The rain has stopped. What do you say we shower and then head out to that pub in Westminster for some lunch?"

"That sounds like a brilliant idea," Aiden replied with a grin, kissing him again.


End file.
